The Teachings of Quiddich and Love
by jentrem99
Summary: Hermione Granger is cluless when it comes to Quiddich... and love. She goes to Oliver Wood for help with learning the techniques of Quiddich but he may teach her a bit more than Quiddich. Mild T.
1. Quiddich Woes

**So here's the first chapter of my revised version of _The Teachings of Quiddich and Love_ or, as I will call it from now on, TTOQAL. I know that I included the "of" and the "a" but whatever, it looks better than TTQL. I felt that it needed vowels. Anyway, back on the subject of the story, I really hope that you like it because I am determined to make it a good story and to update once a week. So read and review!**

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"That was totally awesome!" Ginny Weasley screamed excitedly running into Draco Malfoy's outstretched arms.

"Great job, babe. You're a natural at chasing," Draco told his girlfriend, kissing her vibrant red hair. Ginny grinned up at him.

"Ugh! Could you please, please refrain from showing any signs of affection when I'm around," Ron, Ginny's freakishly tall and awkward brother, asked with a disgusted look plastered on his face while walking up to the annoyingly happy couple with Harry and Hermione.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Ron, everyone else had gotten used to it. Me and Draco are happy together. Why can't you just accept that?" Ginny asked with pleading eyes.

"I think you mean 'Draco and I', Ginny," Hermione Granger, Ginny's best friend, corrected her. Ginny simply rolled her eyes.

"Hermione, we need to get you a boyfriend," Ginny said, cautiously glancing at her best friend, seeing if she would get in trouble for bringing up a touchy subject.

Hermione glared at Ginny. She had been very unlucky in that department. Hermione's last try at love was with Ron. Ron was far too overprotective for Hermione; every time a boy looked in her direction, including Harry, Ron would snap at them and tell them to piss off and leave his "girl" alone. So, Hermione broke it off with Ron, breaking his heart and mending hers; she hadn't felt good about the relationship for a while. She once told Ginny that dating just wasn't her thing when Ginny started the whole "blind date" shindig. Ginny simply scoffed in amusement and went back to searching for Hermione's perfect match.

"I'm sorry Hermione. Sometimes the thoughts in my head get bored and decide to take a walk out of my mouth," Ginny said with a small voice.

"I agree with Ginny. Then you can stop bothering us and leave us alone," Draco said earning him a powerful jab in the ribs from his ridiculously strong girlfriend. "Ow! Come on babe, you know it's true."

"That's it!" Ron bellowed. "If you call my sister 'babe' one more time, I'll… I'll… I'll think of something really witty to do then do it," Ron grumbled as his face became as red as his hair

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's lame attempt of a threat.

It was after the war. Many of the previously 7th year students came back to Hogwarts to get the knowledge that they were deprived of, forming an 8th year. It was after the first Quiddich game. Draco and Hermione anxiously watched in the stands while Ginny, Harry, and Ron played.

"Back to the game," Harry said, not caring about all of the relationship talk that was being thrown around. His mind was still focused on the game.

"Yeah, did you see that foul? That was the worst call ever," Ron said, followed by a chorus of "Yeahs". Hermione just nodded, not knowing what Ron was talking about. She was completely oblivious when it came to Quiddich.

"Wood was off his rocker tonight," Draco commented on the new referee's call. Madame Hooch had retired just the year before and Headmistress McGonagall hired the young, twenty-two year old Oliver Wood to be the new flying teacher and the official Quiddich referee at Hogwarts.

"Yeah, that shot to the Hufflepuff keeper's head was totally unintentional," Harry said while his eyes flickered nervously in Ginny's direction. During the game Ginny shot a ball right at the Hufflepuff keeper's head. Wood called it a foul and claimed that it was an intentional shot.

Ginny smiled slightly. "Thanks, but it did look kind of intentional. Even though I was the one who shot it and it was a total accident, Wood even got me believing that the shot was intentional. He may not have been right, but he sure sounded like it," Ginny looked down smiling slightly while shifting uncomfortably.

"Yeah, he is pretty persuasive," Draco admitted.

Hermione looked around, totally lost. All she knew was that during the game she stood up and cheered when her fellow Gryffindors and Draco.

"Wood's a pretty good ref," Harry mused, recollecting the days of playing alongside the talented Oliver Wood.

"Hell, yeah, I am!" Oliver Wood exclaimed while walking up to the group of 7th and 8th year students, causing Harry to jump and snap back into reality.

"Oh! Hello, Mr.—Professor Wood—Sir!" Harry said awkwardly.

"Mate, just call me Wood. Besides, I don't even teach you guys. I only ref your games," Wood said in his thick Scottish accent while reassuringly clapping Harry's shoulder.

"Okay," Harry said, silently laughing.

Hermione blushed as Wood gazed at the small group. When Hermione was younger, she had a little crush on Wood. It was nothing, really, rather just adoration from afar. All she would really do when she went to Quiddich games in her first and second year was keep her eyes glued on the Keeper guarding the hoops.

"Well, well, well," Wood continued while rubbing his hands together, "let's see if I can remember all of your names. Harry, obviously," Wood said, rolling his eyes.

"Ron," Wood stated, earning himself a nod of approval. His gaze rested on Ginny.

"Jenna?" There was a round of shaken heads.

"Gena? No!" Wood caught himself.

"Gi—Ginny!" he finished with a sigh of contentment.

"Draco Malfoy?" Wood asked, disbelieving. "Why the hell are you guys hanging out with a Slytherin?"

"Hey!" Draco bellowed, offended.

"He's my boyfriend," Ginny explained, playfully slapping Draco's arm before reaching to hold is hand. Draco's rough expression softened.

"Oh? Okay," Wood stated, surprised but not questioning further. "And… Hermione? Hmm you look…." Wood trailed off searching for the right words to say, his eyebrows smashing together and his nose scrunching up in confusion and deep thought.

"Taller?" Ginny suggested jokingly, for Hermione was a very petite girl, being on 5 feet and 3 inches.

"Less bushy haired?" Harry offered.

"Prettier?" Ron asked, causing Hermione to shoot him a look that clearly said "I've told you a million times Ronald, it's over". Ron ducked his head in sorrow.

"Uglier?" Draco said which earned him many slaps on the arm and head.

There was a long silence. Everyone was staring at Wood, awaiting his answer.

"I look…?" Hermione asked, curious at that point.

"All of the above. Not including uglier," Wood finally answered with a smile on his face.

Hermione blushed and looked down at the floor. She had to admit, Wood had become even more handsome in his few years away from Hogwarts. In his Quiddich reffing uniform with his long, shaggy brown hair, falling right above his deep, intense, yet lighthearted brown eyes, he looked rather dashing. Hermione shifted uncomfortably while glancing at the handsome flying teacher.

Wood's answer infuriated Ron, but he didn't say anything for Hermione's sake.

Suddenly the group's conversation shifted back to Quiddich. Hermione, not understanding a thing and feeling left out, dismissed herself and started to head back to the Gryffindor common room. Everyone was pretty used to Hermione doing this, but Wood curiously followed her.

"Hey, Hermione!" Wood shouted while trying to catch up with her. He paused at the sight of his employer. "I mean Miss Granger," Wood corrected himself loudly so McGonagall didn't think that he was too casual with the students at Hogwarts. She simply stopped, looked at them, nodded, and left to go congratulate her former house for their victory.

Hermione had also stopped at the sight of the headmistress. When McGonagall continued walking, so did she.

"Hello, Oliver. What do you want?" Hermione asked formally.

"I was just wondering why you suddenly left," Wood stated.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. She swiveled towards Wood to look him in the eye.

"I am retreating back to the Gryffindor common room to study and finish my homework. So, if you don't mind, well, even if you do mind, I'll be going now." Hermione resumed her fast pace walking.

"Hermione Granger putting off homework until Sunday night? That's unheard of. What's the real reason?" Wood asked, reaching for Hermione's hand to get her to stop walking.

Hermione's stomach lurched at the contact.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Wood raised an eyebrow. "Okay, okay. Fine. I don't—I don't…" Hermione mumbled, trailing off while jumbling the words.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I don't understand it," Hermione whispered.

"Understand what exactly?" Wood carefully questioned.

"Quiddich. I don't get how it works. Is there some sort of complex way to get the big ball through the circular rings on the poles or do you just throw in hope that it goes through?" asked Hermione, not looking Wood in the eye.

Wood gasped with mock shock. "You mean that there's something in existence that you, Hermione Granger doesn't know everything there is to know about it." Wood chuckled.

"I know, I know." Hermione looked up at Wood shyly, pulling her bushy hair in her eyes to cover her shame. "Call an auror and throw me in Azkaban! I only go to the games because my three best friends play," Hermione joked. "What's wrong with me? What kind of witch doesn't know about Quiddich?" Hermione sighed.

"A smart, studious witch that doesn't give a shit about people flying around, throwing balls randomly, and sometimes falling on their asses like buffoons?" Wood said slowly.

Hermione laughed. "Yeah, something like that."

"You know," Wood said, brushing the hair out of Hermione's face while not noticing the blush creep up on Hermione's flushed face, "I can teach you some things about Quiddich if you want."

Hermione's frizzy head snapped up. "Really?"

"Sure! As Quiddich captain, I taught all of my new players the specific rules that they didn't know, and in Harry's case, I taught him everything he knows," Wood said with a smirk.

Hermione chuckled and joked, "Oh, no wonder Harry such a good Quiddich player."

Wood winked. "Yep."

Hermione sighed. "Would this be like you tutoring me? Because I'm always the tutor, and never the tutored."

"Of course you would worry about that." Wood chortled. "No, they can just be friendly lessons. How'd that be?" Wood's pure Scottish accent voiced.

"Fine, I guess. Would you like to meet every Sunday after lunch?"

"Weekly? Let me just see…" Wood examined his watch. "Sure I guess that my schedule's open." Wood smiled.

Hermione giggled in a non-Hermione way. "How are a weekly schedule and a watch relevant? It's not like your watch has a calendar."

"I know, but I made you laugh." Wood grinned.

Hermione laughed yet again. "Yes, but I was laughing at your stupidity."

"Hey! I guess you don't want a stupid teacher then. I suppose that you can just continue watching Quiddich games in confusion. Or, here's an idea, why don't you ask one of your three Quiddich-playing friends, or four if you include Malfoy?" Wood asked sarcastically.

"No! I want you to teach me. All of these years no one knew that I haven't the faintest idea what's going on during the match and I intend to keep it that way. They would just laugh in my face when they found out that I don't know, or like, Quiddich."

Wood leaned against the wall while looking at the brick ground. "Really? Hmm. Fine, I'll teach you, just don't get too annoyed with my stupidity."

Hermione grabbed Wood's hand to get his attention but quickly let go when she felt some sort of electric static between them. A figurative static, of course, but still it was something. Hermione wondered if Wood felt it too.

"I didn't mean it like that, Oliver, really."

Wood smirked. "I know. So, I 'm guessing that you would like for this to be a secret."

Hermione nodded.

"Well, I will see you later then. Good day, Milady." Wood bowed and kissed Hermione's hand.

"Oh, how cheesy, cute, and annoying." Hermione grinned.

"Damn strait. The cute part, not the cheesy or annoying part."

"Okay, then. I will see you later Oliver."

"Yes you will. You know, Hermione, you can call me Wood; everyone else does."

"No, thank you," Hermione said quietly.

Wood laughed and shook his head before walking away, leaving behind a smiling Hermione Granger who was facing the jittery butterflies for the certain Quiddich professor that she hadn't seen since she was an immature little girl.

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**Well? What d'ya think? Hmm? I will take comments, suggestions, critizism, anything! Feedback is like crack to me except I don't get high! Haha!**

**Thank you!**

**jtrem**


	2. Location

**This is a filler chapter, so stay with me! I enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope that you enjoy reading it! Woohoo!**

Hermione sighed as she sat alone in Arithmancy. Harry and Ron didn't take the class so she was by herself. She rather enjoyed the quietness. Normally, Harry and Ron would pester her for answers or for a peek at her notes because they weren't paying attention to the teacher. Since Harry and Ron were sitting in Divination while letting their brains rot away, Hermione could learn and absorb information efficiently and without interruption.

Hermione's hand shot up in the air and she quickly answered Professor Vector's question, earning her ten points for Gryffindor and several eye rolls from her peers. She didn't mind. She loved the warm feeling she experienced when she saw her professor nod in approval and award her points for her house. She loved being smart and she was not ashamed of being a know-it-all and a bookworm, despite the constant verbal abuse that she endured nearly every day from the lovely Slytherins.

Hermione stomach growled as she uncharacteristically tuned out Vector's lecture. Hermione was filled with joy when she realized that her following period was lunch and her hunger grew at the thought of a nice, clean sandwich. She sighed when the bell rang and she leaped while gathering her books and parchment. After quickly shoving her supplies into her book bag, Hermione nearly ran to the Great Hall, finding that Harry, Ron, and Ginny were sitting in a tight group with a vacant seat next to Ginny. Hermione skipped over to her friends, stopping while Ginny pulled her bag off of the spot that she was saving for Hermione. Lying on top of a plate was a folded note written on dingy golden parchment. Hermione slid into her spot.

"What's this?"

Ron shrugged as he shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth. "Dunno."

"Yeah," Harry added, "a random owl dropped it there and flew away."

Hermione scrunched her nose in confusion as she scrutinized the poorly folded parchment. "Hmm, odd." Too hungry to care, Hermione set the note aside and began munching on a long awaited sandwich.

"Aren't you going to read it?" Ginny mumbled into her cup as she tipped it back to take a swig of pumpkin juice.

Hermione shook her head. "Not now."

"Why?" Harry queried.

"I honestly do not enjoy using Ron's signature word, but I dunno. I really don't have an interest in its contents at the moment. Currently, my sandwich holds all of my attention."

Ron snickered, knowing that he had the same problems nearly every day but Ginny frowned.

"What if it's a love letter?" Ron's face grew red at the thought. "Or what if the note is from McGonagall, saying that she wants you to forget about eighth year and become a professor right now? Isn't that your dream or something?" Ginny asked with a smirk.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ginny, it's nothing of that sort."

Harry laughed. "Don't be so sure, Hermione."

Ron slowly reached for the note tucked under Hermione's plate, trying to be stealthy. Hermione slapped his hand.

"Ronald, that may be personal and for my eyes only," Hermione snapped.

Ron groaned and slumped back. "Oh, come on, Hermione! We camped together for over six months and shared nearly everything and we can't even see your letter?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Yes, Ronald." After shoveling in the last bit of her sandwich, Hermione snatched her note and smacked Ron with it.

"Quit it," Ron whined.

"No, I don't think that I will."

"You know, technically, you're beating me with a tree. I don't think that's very nice."

"Neither is invading your friend's privacy, Ronald." Hermione then left the Great Hall in anger, faintly hearing Harry murmur, "Now you've done it."

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As Wood walked into the Great Hall, he saw Hermione stomp past him with a furious expression. Before he could stop her, she ran off while mumbling, "…mind his own freaking business…" all the while not noticing Wood. Wood shook his head, walking to his spot at the head table and ignoring the giggles from the young girls that he passed. He had many fans at Hogwarts, and, as flattering as it was, it really annoyed him. The most constant annoyance was Brielle, a relentless, giggly fifth year in Hufflepuff. All she would do was bat her eyes and twirl her hair while she told him how dreamy he was. Wood thoughtfully scooped a spoonful of his soup and slurped it up, wondering if Hermione received his message.

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Hermione settled on a hard, wood chair positioned in front an equally hard table in her sanctuary called the Library. She carefully unfolded the parchment and began reading the messily written note.

_Hermione,_

_Since we're meeting on Sunday, we will need a meeting place, yeah? I'm guessing that you really wouldn't want anyone to see us during our lessons so they don't get suspicious and ask questions, so, I believe that we should meet in the Room of Requirements. First, before I teach you the rules and such, I would like for you to know how to fly so you can fully understand how everything is done correctly. So, I will teach you the art of flying. Would that be okay?_

_Wood_

_(Or, in your case, Oliver.)_

Upon finishing the letter, Hermione chuckled, refolded the parchment, and slid it neatly into her Potions book to compress and hold it. She wasn't sure why, but she felt like she should keep the note. As she read it, she could practically hear Wood's Scottish accented voice carefully pronounce each word. It filled her with an odd sensation of warmth; it was a comfort to her. Her reply was short and simple:

_Oliver,_

_Yes, that will be a fine meeting place. I'm not so sure about the flying aspect of the plans, but we'll see on Sunday._

_Hermione_

After making a mental note to visit the Owlery to send her reply, Hermione worked on her Charms essay until the bell rang that announced the end of the lunch period. Sighing, Hermione stood up and gathered her things. While slowly heading to double Potions with the Slytherins, Hermione reluctantly admitted to herself that she was nervous for her lesson with the newest professor, along with being thoroughly excited. After sliding into a vacant seat next to Harry, Hermione tried to pay attention to Slughorn's slow lecture but, for once, she found that she couldn't because her mind was still hovering over the subject of her plans on Sunday.

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**Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooo? What did ya think? Hmmmmmmm? Please either review and/or PM me!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**jtrem.**


	3. First Flight

**Sorry that it took SO LONG for me to update! Truly, I waited far too long. But here's chapter three! R&R!**

Hermione jogged into the Room of Requirements in fear of tardiness. Not five minutes ago, with her head buried in a book, she realized that she was over twenty minutes late for her lesson with Wood. As Hermione stepped into the vast room, she noticed that it was larger than usual; far larger, in fact. It was a near perfect replica of the Quiddich pitch just outside of the Hogwarts castle. The room had taken from of a Quiddich pitch with, what seemed to be, a never ending, neatly trimmed grass ground.

Hermione sighed when she saw Wood carelessly sprawled across the first two rows of seats in the stands. With his eyes shut and his mouth open, he was clearly asleep. Suddenly, a mischievous grin took place of Hermione's somber expression as she heard a small snore escape from Wood's mouth. She quickly scuttled over, pausing right in front of Wood. She debated with herself for a while, afraid to do something spontaneous and unusual. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Hermione pounced.

"Gah!"

Hermione giggled while Wood crumbled underneath her. Wood fell through the gap between the first and second rows. While hoisting himself up on his elbows, he frowned.

"Hermione Granger! I could put you in detention for that little stunt!" Wood exclaimed in a voice sounding a bit too much like McGonagall.

"Uh, sorry! I really didn't—uh, oh Merlin! I'm sorry!" Hermione rambled.

Wood cackled. "Hermione, it's fine, I was only yanking your wand! Chill! You need to remember that to you, I'm more of a friend than a professor."

Hermione sighed then smacked Wood's arm. "Don't you ever do that again, Oliver Wood! I swear, you scared the magic out of me!" Hermione scolded.

"I guess you view me as a student more than a professor _or_ a friend. Well, I'm sorry, _Professor Granger._"

"Oh, don't get smart with me, Oliver!" Hermione scowled.

Wood lifted his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay. Shall we begin the lesson?"

"Yes. And I'm sorry for being a bit late; I lost track of time." Hermione dipped her head, ashamed.

"It's fine. And, oh, you're all red in the face, were you _running_? Was someone excited to see me?" Wood asked, laughing.

Hermione chuckled. "Believe whatever you want, Oliver."

"Okay, I will!" Wood said in a cheery voice. "Now," Wood continued while hopping up and skipping to the closed chest in the middle of the field, "let's begin!" Wood whipped open top of the chest. "This," Wood raised the ball, "is a quaffle. Chasers, like Ginny, use this to score points. Their team gets rewarded ten points every time this light ball passes through one of those hoops." Wood pointed to the three hoops to his right. Hermione nodded, soaking in all of the information. "Got it? Okay, that," Wood pointed to the shaking ball after putting the quaffle back, "the ball that's having spasms, is the bludger. The beaters, what George and—George used to be," Wood said, deciding against including Fred, "they hit the bludgers with those bats to keep them away from their teammates." Wood pulled out the snitch. "This little golden orb is the snitch. The seeker, Harry, tries to catch it. If caught, the seeker gains one hundred and fifty points for their team, normally winning the game for them. And lastly, there's the keeper, what I used to be and what Ron is, who attempts blocking the quaffles that the other team's chasers try to shoot into their hoops. Understand?" Wood finished.

"I think so."

Wood smiled. "Brilliant. Now, flying."

Hermione groaned. "I really don't think that that's a good idea."

"Come on, Hermione, you'll be fine."

"Oh yeah? Try telling that to me right after I've fallen to my death. Now wouldn't that be lovely?" Hermione mumbled, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"If you're that worried, I'll fly with you."

Hermione looked at Wood with shock. "Really? Uh—sure, I guess that would help a bit."

Wood smiled. "Excellent. Now, mount the broom," he ordered.

"Aye-aye, Captain." Hermione did as she was told.

Wood mounted right after her, hid strong arms enveloping her petite figure.

"Grip the broom tightly and kick of really hard," Wood advised.

Hermione obliged while holding her breath. Even though Wood's muscular arms were protecting her, she was scared to death. Hermione's heart fluttered when they kicked off. Whether it was from her fear or from Wood's grip tightening on her, she wasn't sure.

Wood's low, Scottish voice sounded in Hermione's ear, causing her to jump. "Good. Now keep it steady."

Hermione really wasn't doing anything; it was all Wood. Wood steered them around the stands, making sure to keep a constant slow pace. Hermione was ashamed to discover that during the entire ride, she was focusing on Wood more than his flying technique. She breathed in his heavenly, effortless smell as his steady breath caressed her neck, making her shiver.

Hermione wasn't sure how long they were airborne, but she found that she was disappointed when Wood lowered to the ground and landed. He slid off the broom and grinned.

"That wasn't so bad, correct?" Wood queried.

Hermione smirked. "I suppose not."

Chuckling, Wood exclaimed, "I told you!"

Hermione laughed. "You're so childish sometimes, Oliver."

"Yet, I'm the professor and you're not!"

Wood then walked cheerfully over to the chest and dropped his broom next to it while humming.

"You're suspiciously excited," Hermione observed.

"That would be because I proved you wrong, dear Hermione! Not many people get to have that rewarding pleasure! And, let me say, it is an excellent feeling."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're so strange."

Wood laughed. "Good because normal people are boring."

Hermione crossed her arms disapprovingly. "Well then, I must be a dull buzz kill."

Wood shook his head while heading towards the door. "Nah, you're just the opposite."

"Thanks. I guess our lesson's done for today." Hermione couldn't help but be disappointed.

"Yeah, next time, you're flying alone."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Uh—"

Wood took Hermione's hand a stopped their traverse to the door. "Hermione, you'll be just fine. Plus, I'll be here for you if anything happens."

That made Hermione's brown orbs grow even more.

"Nothing will happen Hermione. Merlin, you can face the darkest wizards out there, break into Gringotts, and run around god knows where, doing god knows what but you can't fly a broom?"

Hermione shook her head. "How did you know about all of that?"

Wood shrugged and started walking to the door again. "People talk, I hear things."

Hermione huffed. "Of course, you live through a myriad of life-threatening situations to save everyone and they treat our adventure like another insignificant story to gossip about. Is that how they really thank Harry?"

Wood opened the door and grabbed Hermione's shoulder to stop her. "It's not like that; we're all incredibly grateful for what you, Harry, and Ron did. It will never be forgotten."

With that, Wood sauntered off, leaving Hermione to think things over. She smirked at the sweet comment that Wood made. She didn't know what is was about him, but he made her feel like she was flying, with and without a broom.

**

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So, what did ya think? Huh? And remember, if you can't review becasue I'm redoing parts of this and you cant re-review a chapter, PM me!

**Just so you know, I'm leaving for Florida tomorrow and I'm driving (22 hours... help me!) so I'll have a lot of time to write so I'll update quicker when I get back!**

**Thanks for reading! Review please!**

**jtrem**


	4. Girl Talk

**Sorry, sorry, sorry! I updated a bit later than I anticipated! I waited too long and then, when I finally decided to post, FanFiction kept on telling me that I couldn't 'cause there's an "error" or something. :( I promise that it won't be this long again!**

**IF YOU ARE HAVING PROBLEMS WITH UPDATING, CHANGE 'PROPERTY' WITH 'CONTENT' IN THE URL!**

**IT WORKS !**

Hermione woke up to a persistent knock on her dormitory door. While slowly raising her head, she realized that it was light out, meaning that it was nearly time for class. Hermione, experiencing a headache and tiredness and seriously lacking motivation, pulled her covers back over her head in attempt to continue her slumber. A groan sounded from the lump under the heavy sheets as another knock rang through the room. This time a voice followed it.

"Hermione." _Knock. Knock._ "Hermione! Are you alive in there?"

Hermione groaned loudly.

"No, I'm dead! Now, go away!"

Hermione heard a sigh come from the other side of the door.

"Hermione, come on! Everyone's already done with breakfast. We all thought that something happened to you when you didn't come down but Lavander and Parvati said that you wouldn't wake up," Ginny's faint voice replied.

Hermione nodded to herself, barely remembering when she ignored their futile attempts at waking her up.

"Hermione," Ginny continued, "you're going to miss breakfast."

Hermione tugged at the covers lightly so that her face was exposed to the cool air in the small room. When the light hit her eyes, however, the pounding in her head seemed to intensify and she quickly slid further under the warm sheets.

"Gin, I'm not Ron. I can go a day without breakfast."

Ginny leaned against the door and Hermione could hear her steady breathing more clearly.

"What's wrong, Hermione? You're not acting like yourself."

"Nothing's wrong," Hermione mumbled.

Ginny pressed her ear against the cold door, wishing that she had access to a pair of extendable ears.

"What?" she nearly shouted.

Hermione tiredly reached for her wand lying on her bedside table and waved it around randomly while muttering "Alohamora." She heard several _clicks_ of trunk latches opening and finally heard the door creak open. Knowing that she finally hit the door, Hermione carelessly threw her wand back on the table where it rolled off and hit the floor with a _clink_.

Ginny quickly picked up the wand and set it back on the table and then sat next to the lifeless figure in the fetal position on the bed.

"Hermione, what's wrong? Are you sick?" Ginny asked in the most sincere voice that she could muster for Hermoine's position was very funny to Ginny. "Do you have your period or something?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Well, then get up! Class starts in ten minutes!"

That did the trick.

Hermione was up and running at that, her eyes alert and determined. She and Ginny left five minutes later, parting their ways once they left the common room.

* * *

"So, how was your day?" Ginny questioned as she joined her best friend on one of the common room couches.

"Pleasantly easy and interesting," Hermione replied, not looking up from her book.

Her headache had never really left and she felt a slight fever brewing but chose to ignore it. She just didn't want to be sick for her next lesson was in three days.

"When isn't school easy and interesting to you?" Ginny joked.

With a roll of her eyes, Hermione returned to her book.

After a few minutes, Ginny sighed in exaggerated boredom.

"What?" Hermione asked with a bored tone as she looked up from her book.

"Don't know." Ginny shrugged. "I just don't understand how someone can be so absorbed in a _book_. I only read for school and sometimes not even for that," she marveled.

Hermione closed her book and set it lightly on her lap.

"Fine then, what do you suggest we do?"

"Gossip?"

"No," Hermione replied flatly.

Ginny pouted.

"Homework."

"No! Gag me with a spoon!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, chuckling.

Ginny cracked a smile. "No idea."

Hermione hummed in thought.

"Let's talk about boys!" Ginny suggested.

"Is that all that you think about?" Hermione commented with a quirked eyebrow.

Ginny nodded. "Pretty much."

Hermione drew her legs into her chest, debating whether she wanted to address the touchy subject.

"Okay, fine."

Ginny clapped and fist pumped in triumph. She had been trying to have this talk with her best friend for ages.

"Yes! Okay, so, who do you like?"

"What are we first years?" Hermione scoffed.

While giggling Ginny replied, "No, but let's try this approach for just a bit."

Hermione sighed. "No one, I suppose."

"No one my ass. What about Ron? I mean, he flirts with you all the time."

"Ginny, you know that my feelings for Ron is strictly on the friendship level. We tried dating once, and it didn't work out. In fact, you're the one who encouraged the termination of our romantic relationship."

"Well, when you say it like that it makes me sound like a bad guy. I simply saw how unhappy you were with him like that and helped you break it off but, apparently, my daft older brother didn't process this whole situation correctly," Ginny said, recalling the night that Hermione broke up with Ron.

_Flashback_

_Hermione nervously folded her hands as Ron entered her room at the Burrow. She knew that Ginny would be listening to their conversation to make sure that things went as planned but she just didn't know if she could go through with it. She didn't want to lose her friendship with Ron and she hoped that she wouldn't hurt him._

_It was near the end of the summer and Ron and Hermione had been in a relationship for nearly three months and Hermione wasn't very happy with the relationship that she was in. It was really awkward when Ron would sling his arm around Hermione's shoulders and it never felt right when he kissed her._

_After slipping into the room, Ron pecked Hermione on the lips._

_"Ginny said that you wanted to talk to me. What's up?" Ron asked curiously._

_"I—" Hermione struggled to get it out. She had an entire speech planned but she just decided to get it over with. "Ron, it's not working between us."_

_Ron looked shocked. To him, everything was going fine. "What do you mean?"_

_"Well, I just—I love you. You know that, right?"_

_Ron nodded, recollecting the "I love you's" that were shared one warm night in July._

_"But I don't love you… this way. I love you like a friend and only like a friend. Do you know what I mean?"_

_Hermione's heart leaped with joy when he nodded, but his next comment made her heart stop beating all together._

_"You may be having a few doubts, and that's okay, but I'll get you back one day. You can count on that." Ron then left the room, nearly running into the eavesdropping redhead outside of the door._

"Yeah, well, I don't like anyone. Not at the moment at least, but it's very possible that I could soon." Hermione blushed.

Ginny's eyes lit up.

"Who? Who?"

"Don't laugh but Oliver Wood," Hermione confessed.

"Oh, he's a hottie!"

Hermione laughed.

"No, really, he is. And he's nice too. Well done, Hermione. I approve!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Ginny, shh!" Hermione scolded while scanning the room for eavesdroppers. "Besides, it's not like he likes me, too."

"You don't know that," Ginny defended.

"And I probably never will! He's a professor for Merlin's sake."

Ginny reached for Hermione's hand, gripping it tightly. "So what? Hermione, you lack self-confidence and it's not good for you. Everyone has to have at least a bit of pride."

"I have pride. I just don't think that I'm the most gorgeous thing in the world like some other girls do."

"Still," Ginny continued, squeezing Hermione's hand, "you need a serious boost in confidence, that's for sure."

"I do not," Hermione scoffed.

"Do too. Now tell me all about him because you probably know him more than me, being in Harry's year and knowing him from when Harry first joined Quiddich and all."

Hermione then launched off in her story of how she found herself to be attracted to him and how the warmth in his brown eyes and his thick Scottish accent made her feel comforted and welcomed. Ginny occasionally threw in her own opinions like how she thought that Wood's Quiddich muscles were a "definite positive" and how his strong arms could easily "envelope her and hold her there forever". Hermione also told her about the Quiddich lessons.

"Why didn't you tell me that you didn't completely understand Quiddich? I could've helped you."

Hermione looked down sheepishly. "I don't know."

* * *

Hermione and Ginny went to bed not long after their talk. Hermione thinking about her upcoming lesson, and Ginny thinking about how to get Hermione out of her shell and into Wood's strong arms.

* * *

**Once agian, terribly sorry for the slow update. If you don't want it to take that long this time, please review! Those always keep me going!**

**Oh, and Annie, when I was writing the part about Ginny's opinion of Oliver, I thought of your lovely True Love book! :)**

**Anyway, thank you to all of my readers and thanks for sticking with the story!**

**jtrem**


	5. Staff Troubles

**Filler time! Enjoy!**

* * *

Wood shifted in his seat as he quickly shoved eggs into his mouth, trying no to acknowledge that he could indeed hear Slughorn making useless, stupid jokes.

"Wasn't that funny, Oliver?" Slughorn asked when he failed to get a positive reaction from the others at the staff table.

Wood just looked down and continued to stuff his mouth.

"Eh, Oliver?"

With a snap of the head, Wood muttered, "Sorry, what?"

Slughorn sighed. "I guess I'll just have to repeat it. Okay, knock, knock."

Wood rolled his eyes.

"Who's there?"

With a cackle, Slughorn belted, "You know..."

"You know who?"

"HA!"

Wood sighed at Slughorn's endless chuckles.

"So?" Slughorn pestered.

"Oh, it's funny. Quite humorous." Wood's face remained blank and unchanged.

With a satisfied nod, Slughorn's attention turned back to his toast.

Wood silently groaned. Another boring was about to commence. Ever since he was hired, Wood had felt out of place. Whether it was because he was the youngest staff member, because he a student at Hogwarts not too long ago, or both, he wasn't sure, but the entire year, he had this odd, nagging feeling whenever he had a conversation with a fellow staff member. They always randomly shake their head at something he'd said, or they'd cut him off or even walk away when he was mid-sentence. It frustrated and aggravated him to a point where he's just ignore them all and avoid the hallways that they normally use. Wood figured that he'd just stick to socializing with the older student who attended Hogwarts when he did. But even that didn't feel right. Wood felt like he fit in nowhere in that school that he thought he was rid of a few years back.

He guessed that's what happened when, after you graduate, you can't get your dream job (playing keeper for the Chudley Cannons), you're either stuck with doing something that you love at a place where you hadn't wanted to return to in awhile (especially after the war) or you're stuck with a boring, insignificant job at the Ministry. Some great choices for Wood.

What was even worse was that it was a Saturday which meant no classes and nothing to do. Lovely. That's why Wood enjoyed hanging out with Harry because he was a good mate and stood by Wood even when the rest of the team was pissed off at him for drilling into them too long and too hard.

"Maybe that's what I'll do today. Hang out with Harry. And possibly Hermione," Wood mumbled to himself.

"What's that boy?" Sprout questioned.

Wood growled quietly, hating the way she called him 'boy'.

"Nothing."

He then stood up abruptly and stormed out, leaving many confused souls behind him.

* * *

"What's wrong with him?" Ron wondered aloud.

"Dunno," said Harry.

"Hmm," Hermione murmured. "I wonder."

Harry chuckled.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just that you sound curiously like Ollivander."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"What are you on about?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing. Just a memory."

"Okay…."

They both turned back to their food and finished their meal in silence, planning their day in their minds.

* * *

**So there's a quick (emphasis on quick) glimpse of Oliver's troubles.**

**I PROMISE to update soon. In fact, I've already started the next chappie!**

**What do you guys think about me calling Oliver Wood just Wood. Should I change it so that it's Oliver because I'm still on the fence with that choice to call him Wood.**

**Thoughts, comments, concerns...? Review! :)**

**And thank you alindy for the wonderous You-Know-Who joke! :)**


	6. Flying Solo

Chapter Six here we come! :)

* * *

"What's got you so jittery today?"

Hermione gazed at Ron's curious face. "What exactly do you mean?"

"Well, your eyes are unfocused, whenever we say something to you, you just kind of nod, you keep on glancing at the staff table, and, finally, your leg won't stop shaking," Ron explained while gesturing wildly with his arms.

"Am I really?" Hermione sputtered. "Wait, no I'm not!" Hermione exclaimed, answering herself.

"Yeah you are," Ron said, furiously nodding.

"Wha—I… I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione said defensively.

A hand rested on her shaking leg, causing her to jump.

"Hermione, seriously, what's going on?"

"Nothing, Harry. Everything's fine. I'm fine," Hermione assured her inquisitive friend.

"Well," Ginny said, joining the conversation, "technically nothing's _wrong_…."

Ron examined his sister. "You know what's going on?"

"In a sense," Ginny confirmed with an affirmative nod.

"What's that supposed to mean? How can you know why Hermione's acting bonkers just 'in a sense'?" Ron exclaimed.

"Well, she's not troubled or _in _trouble so nothings wrong _in that sense_. But what really is up with her is not my secret to tell."

Ron turned to Hermione. "You have a secret?"

"Ginny, honestly, did you have to say that?"

Ginny shrugged.

"And I'm not sure."

Ron crushed is eyebrows together in confusion. "You're not sure about what? Having a secret?"

"Yes. I'm not positive if the… _thing _Ginny's referring to is even true so how could I know if it was a secret or not?"

"But Hermione, we talked about it the other day and you seemed pretty assured of it," Ginny said.

"What's this 'it' that you two are discussing?" Harry questioned while popping a potato into his mouth.

"Nothing," Hermione answered a bit too quickly.

Ron crossed his arms and leaned foreword onto the table. "It doesn't seem like nothing."

"Ron, if she's not willing to share then we shouldn't pester her."

"Thank you, Harry, that's much appreciated." Hermione threw a large smile at her green-eyed friend.

"But, still, Hermione, we're your friends, aren't we?" At Hermione's furious expression, Ron finished timidly, "Then, if we're you're friends and you trust us, shouldn't you share this 'in a sense' secret with us?"

Hermione stood up angrily. "I never said anything about _trusting_ you, Ronald Weasley. And don't you dare expect me to share every single thing with you lot. So don't _pry_!" Hermione shouted, and then swiftly excited the Great Hall in search of the tranquility of her sanctuary.

* * *

Hermione scurried from the library to the seventh floor, continuously stuffing her bag with large books.

"Yes! I made it in time!" Hermione exclaimed as she pushed through the large doors and stepped onto the green grass.

A deep chuckle caused Hermione to turn back towards the closing doors. She jumped as she saw her teacher causally leaning against the wall adjacent to the large doors.

"You certainly did make it in time."

Hermione smiled as she head the thick Scottish accent that she loved so much.

"Yes I did," Hermione replied, smiling like an idiot. "So, what's on the agenda today, Oliver?"

Oliver smirked. "Well, Miss Granger, I'm shocked that you don't remember, being with the brilliant brain that your bushy-haired head contains."

Hermione tapped her chin with the tip of her index finger. "Hmm…." As comprehension washed over her face, Hermione muttered, "No, no, no. Not flying by myself. Please, can't just I fly with you again. I need as much practice as I can get before I go it alone."

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic, my dear Hermione," Oliver commented as he approached her. "You can do it. I know you can." Oliver guided Hermione to the center of the field where the very same crisp Nimbus 2002 that they used the last lesson lay.

"Eh. But I don't want to…." Hermione playfully whined with a pout.

"Yes, but without this, it will be a bit more difficult for me to teach you all about Quiddich."

"Well, since I have that 'brilliant mind' as you say, I should be able to learn things even if it is more difficult than it should be," Hermione replied with an innocent smile.

Oliver laughed and pointed at the broom. "Mount it," he commanded.

"Fine," Hermione groaned. After she childishly stomped over to the broom, she mounted it with ease. "The kick off's the worst part."

Oliver smiled. "I know, just bear with me. Now, make sure you grip the handle tightly with _both _of your hands, never one, at least not until you've had a decent amount of practice. Keep your feet sturdily on the ground, one in front and the other in back, and kick off with _both_ feet. If you kick off with the front, you'll head face first into the grass and if you kick off with your back foot, you'll plummet backwards and most likely hit your head so _be careful_. Okay?"

Hermione jerked her head in approval. "If I die, tell my parents that I love them and that I've been sneaking sugar-filled candy behind their backs for years."

Oliver chuckled. "Okay, but I don't entirely understand the candy thing."

"My parents are dentists." At Oliver's baffled expression Hermione quickly explained, "It's a muggle profession where they tend to people's teeth so, naturally, they don't allow me to eat candy unless it's sugar-free and I've been feeling guilty for awhile since I've been smuggling it into my house and… yeah, you probably don't care."

"No, I do," he replied with a smirk. "It's good to hear about probably the only bad-ass moment that you've ever had."

Hermione gasped, mockingly. "Hey, I helped defeat Voldemort. If that's not bad then I don't know what is!"

Oliver shook his head, smiling goofily. "You're stalling, Miss Granger."

"Oliver, seriously, I'm not sure if I can do this."

Oliver cupped her cheek, almost adoringly. "Hermione, love, you can do it. I believe in you."

"Thanks but I honestly don't believe in myself."

"You. Can. Do. It. Now, fly, kick off and soar away. Feel the freedom, the wind in your hair, the satisfaction of being able to fly by yourself, without me."

Hermione smiled, touching his hand resting on her cheek. "I shall try my best."

"And you shall succeed. 'Believe you can and you're halfway there' – Theodore Roosevelt." Oliver's thumb lightly caressed her cheek.

"How do you know that quote?"

"I just do." He then pulled back. "Now, go."

With the corners of her lips upturned, Hermione's shaky hands gripped the wood handle and her quivering legs kept her feet on the ground as sturdily as they could. She then kicked off with all of her might and with _both_ feet.

A surge of excitement overtook Hermione's body as she heard Oliver's shouts of approval and encouragement. Hermione half-flew and half-hovered in the air, only ten feet off the ground.

"Wee!" she exclaimed in exhilaration.

Oliver's laugh boomed up to Hermione's level. "Excellent!"

"Yeah, sure, but what do I do now?" Hermione bellowed.

"Fly higher, longer, wider!"

"Okay!" Hermione yelled, pulling up the handle with _both_ hands so that she flew higher.

"Oh, so now that you're in the air you cooperate without complain. Figures."

Hermione looked down at him. "What was that?"

"Oh, nothing! Just keep on flying!"

Hermione slowly zoomed across the field, still relatively close to the ground, humming happily. After a few minutes of joyfully flying around, she finally stopped, simply hovering in the same spot.

"Oliver, how do I descend?"

"Just lean down slightly. If you lean too much, you'll get a mouthful of grass," Oliver shouted.

"Ah, I don't know about this."

"Well, I do. Slowly, now."

Hermione slowly and shakily leaned down, clumsily descending at a sluggish rate. When she delicately touched down, she was enveloped in a firm hug with strong arms.

"Job well done, love. Excellent work. Brilliant landing, too," Oliver praised with a large smile.

"Thank you. Not only for that comment and teaching me how to fly but also for believing in me."

"You are very welcome. Shall we call it a day?" Oliver suggested.

"Indeed," Hermione replied with a smile.

With another hug, a kiss on the forehead, and a congratulatory comment or two, they departed, anticipating the next lesson.

* * *

Yay! So, what did you think? I would have updated sooner but I recently developed a fetish with the Rubik's Cube. Once I figured out how to solve it, I solved it probably one hundred times and counting just to memorize all of the Algorithms. It's really fun and if you would like to learn how to do it as easily as possible, a guy on YouTube called 'pogobat' has a really great tutorial, dispite is obvious goofiness. :)

You may have noticed that I called Wood 'Oliver' in this chapter and I intend on going back and changing the other chapters soon so bear with me!

Thank you all who reviewd, favorited, and/or story alerted TTOQAL! :) It's much appreciated and I'd love it if you all reviewed!

Thanks,

jtrem


	7. A Different Type of Studying

**Once again, I'm terribly sorry! I actually had this typed over a week ago but my internet connection was being a turd so I couldn't post. Sad face :(. So, here we are! Chapter... what, 7? Brilliant! On with the story!**

* * *

Hermione sat on the cold wood chair with a large book laid out in front of her. She sighed heavily as she turned a wide sheepskin page of the book _The Lies of Divination. _Hermione had read the book many times and with each time her knowledge grew of how much of a fake the horrid subject was. She decided to take notes and compare what she initially believed and what she considered to believe from the book. She was distressed to find that her studies were interrupted by a laugh that she came to hate in the past few years but tried to love or, at least, like in the past few months.

"Well, well, well, I've never seen anyone as predictable as you, Hermione."

"Draco, why must you always be such a bother?" Hermione inquired with an angered expression and an unusually rough voice.

"My, my, you sound more irate than usual. Why would that be? Just when I thought you grew a liking to me you suddenly become testy? Lovely," Draco mumbled. "I'm trying to befriend Gin's friends just as she asked, but it can be so difficult with you sometimes." Draco ran his hands trough the blond locks that covered his eyes.

"It's not you, Draco. There's nothing wrong, really. It's just whenever I read or talk or even hear about this subject I become a bit pissy," Hermione explained, wildly gesturing toward the oversized reading material sitting in front of her.

Draco lifted up the cover slightly and bent down so that he could examine the title of the book. After a quick chuckle, Draco said, "Of course, Divination, I should have guessed. And, Miss Granger, did you just utter a foul word? What has gotten into you?"

"Nothing. Just… nothing. Now, bugger off, please."

"Only you would add a please after 'bugger off'. Plus, I can't bugger off because that lovely girlfriend of mine wants to talk to you. Don't ask why, because she wouldn't tell me. Just go, please. I don't need her pissy, as well," Draco finished with a smile.

"True." Hermione sighed as she threw the book back on the shelf, not bothering to bring it with her in order to continue her research. "Thank you, Draco. I'll see you later." She smacked his head with her heavily inked parchment and stalked away, smiling when she heard a loud yelp from behind her.

"You wanted to see me?" Hermione said grandiosely while leaping next Ginny on a red Gryffindor couch.

"Why, yes I did. Draco pulled through, didn't he?" Ginny sighed.

Hermione chuckled. "That, he did. Now, what's up?"

Ginny looked around the common room to assure that nobody could hear then leaned in closer for good measure. "I was wondering how your date, oh, sorry, I mean lesson, went."

"It. Was. Not. A. Date," Hermione said, nearly growling.

Ginny giggled. "I know, Hermione, I was kidding. Hence the reason why I corrected myself."

Hermione pushed her curly hair out of her face as she leaned in closer. "It was…" Hermione paused, making Ginny wait with baited breath for her own amusement and leaned in even closer to make it seem as if she was about to pour her heart out to the redhead in front of her. "Fine."

Ginny quickly shot back and looked as if Hermione had slapped her across the face. "It was fine? Are you _kidding _me? Here I am, on the edge of my seat, waiting for you to divulge how your little 'lesson' went and all you say is that it was _fine_? You're remarkable."

"Why, thank you," Hermione said, laughing. "But, honestly, nothing really happened all that much. Wait, yes! I flew for the first time! _By myself!_" Hermione exclaimed, suddenly perking up.

Ginny collected Hermione's hands in hers. "No way! I am so proud of you!"

Hermione grinned brilliantly, happy that Ginny didn't press further about what happened between Oliver and herself. And then:

"But what happened with Wood?"

Hermione inwardly groaned. "Nothing happened. He taught me how to fly and then we departed. Simple as that."

As Ginny raised her eyebrows, Hermione knew that she was in trouble.

"Nothing _romantic_ happened?" Ginny asked dramatically.

"Yes, nothing—"

"Nothing romantic happened with who?" a voice said as Hermione felt the couch give out a bit when a large weight was placed on it.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Leave it to Ron… "I think you mean _whom_, Ronald."

Ron chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Back to the question at hand…?"

"It's nothing, Ron."

"You seem to be saying that a lot lately," Ron accused.

Hermione jumped up, causing Ron and Ginny to gaze in shock at their insane friend.

"Can't you just give it a rest?" Hermione said. She was surprised at how clam she sounded and how she could hold her ground so well. She felt anger augment with the constant inquisition but she kept it at bay.

Ron looked around with a befuddled expression. "What on Earth are you talking about? Give what a rest?"

Hermione's arms flailed as she said, "All of this incessant questioning! It's driving me insane."

Ron stared at Hermione with wide eyes. "I asked one question," Ron said fastidiously.

Hermione breathed a heavy sigh as she slumped back onto the couch between two of her best friends. "You're right, I'm sorry. I overreacted."

"No!" Ron said incredulously, joking around. He rested his hand on Hermione's leg, suddenly serious. "Whatever it is, Hermione, we're always here for you. _I'm_ always here for you." Ron offered an awkward smile, slowly pulling his hand off of Hermione's leg when he noticed what he did. His face turned a brilliant shade of red.

"Thank you, Ronald. I promise that I will put an effort towards stopping my reprehensible behavior."

Ginny laughed at Hermione's choice of word. It was times like that when she loved how smart Hermione was. Ginny loved how she could randomly drop five syllable words into any conversation and it would sound completely normal.

"Yes, Miss Granger, you must put a halt to this repugnant behavior at once!" Ginny giggled.

Hermione grinned, loving how their moods could go from serious to light almost instantaneously. "I shall try my best."

Ron rolled his eyes, squeezed Hermione's shoulder for more reassurance, and stalked away to find Harry.

Ginny's eyes follow her brother until he was out of hearing range then shoved her face back in front of Hermione's.

"So, now that he's gone, what _really_ happened?" When Hermione pressed her lips in a thin line, Ginny pressed further. "Did he hold your hand? If so, did you feel a jolt run up your arm, almost as if you received a small shock? Did he send you secret smiles? Did you catch him gazing longingly at you? Did you gaze longingly back?" Ginny rambled with a distant look gracing her features.

Hermione shook her head. "There's no end to it, is there?" When the enthusiastic redhead didn't respond, Hermione said, "Yes. Yes. Uh, no? I don't know. And probably."

It took Ginny a while to sort out which answer coincided with which question. When she finally understood, she gave a curt nod.

"I suppose that's good enough."

Hermione skeptically stared at Ginny. "Good enough for what?"

"Good enough of an answer; you're off the hook. For now."

Hermione laughed and slightly jumped in happiness. "Finally, I'm free!"

Ginny giggled. "Only until next Sunday."

* * *

"Awe, can't I just go back to the common room and study?" Hermione asked the following day as Ginny dragged her to the Quiddich pitch stands.

Ginny tugged Hermione's hand with more force. "No." She pointed to the first level of seats. "Sit."

"Why?" Hermione whined.

Ginny guided Hermione to the bench, plopped her down, then pulled her own hair up into a pony. "Because if you watch our practice, then you might understand more. Plus, it might impress Wood that you've been studying… Hmm?"

Hermione slouched, leaning her back on the bench one row up. "I don't know or care if he would be impressed by that. I just really want to head back to the common room."

Ginny put her hands on her hips and shook her head in a way that only her mother would do. "Hermione, you do care; I can tell. Now, stay put and keep your eyes on the field."

Hermione folded her eyes and grumpily muttered, "Yes, Mother."

"I have no need for your sarcasm young lady. Now, sit tight and examine the incredible technique that I display," Ginny joked.

"Yes, ma'am." Hermione made a big show of saluting.

Ginny smiled and walked away, her pony bobbing behind her.

Hermione sighed and looked around, waiting for the practice to commence.

* * *

"Wasn't that brilliant?" Ginny asked as she bounded out of the changing room and skipped into step with Hermione.

Hermione recalled the entire hour and a half that she waited and watched the practice, the enitre time anticipating its end and counting down the seconds until she could go back to the Gryffindor Tower and curl up with a great book.

"Sure, whatever you say."

Ginny sighed as she sliked back her sweaty hair. "You must be the most unenthusiastic person that I know."

Hermoine pulled her robes tighter around herself. "Only in certain things," she defended.

"Well, at least next time you see Wood, you can tell him that you've been studying Quiddich. He'll be so proud." Ginny smirked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right."

"I happen to know that—" Hermione looked in the direction that Ginny was, seeing the thing, or rather person, that caused Ginny to pause. "I guess that you can tell him soon than I thougt."

Hermione's eyes widened when she saw the incoming staff member

"No I can't." Hermione ran off before she could be spotted, leaving behind a flustered best friend and a clueless Quiddich teacher.

* * *

"What was that back there?" Ginny shouted as she and Hermione jogged up the moving staircases.

"I'm not sure. When I saw him I just panicked."

"Wow," Ginny breathed, "you must really, really like him. I've never seen you act this way before. I love it," Ginny squealed.

Hermione blew her hair out of her face. "Let it go, Gin."

"You didn't deny it, though," Ginny sang, skipping off ahead of Hermione and into the Gryffindor common room.

* * *

**There. Chapter 7 done. I'm not really sure how I feel about this chapter becasue nothing really goes on that much.**

**I am seriously lacking some motivation, by the way. So if you could just prompt me by reviewing with either some tips, requests, compliments and/or critiques, that would be excellent!**

**I love you all!**

**jtrem**


	8. Detention Duty

**Hello. Howdy. Hola. Bonjour. Hallo. Hiya. Wassup?**

**Okay, so, I know it's been awhile, and I'm terribly, sincerely sorry about that. Truly.**

**Now, this chapter brings up a new situation but, never fear, it all fits just fine into the story and my plans for it.**

**So read and review PLEASE! :D**

**Oh! And this chapter is dedicated to alindy whose birthday wasn't too long ago! I love you, fellow nerdfighter!**

* * *

After the large staircase finished turning, the nervous staff member stepped onto the large stairs and walked up them as the stairs began revolving again. The large bird statue in the middle came to a halt as Oliver stepped into the narrow corridor and up to the grand double doors. After slowly swinging open one of the doors open and stepping into the headmistress's office, Oliver mumbled, "You wanted to see me, Headmistress?"

McGonagall looked up from the papers laid out in front of her on the chestnut desk placed in front of a long staircase in the back of the room. She sat there as Oliver skeptically viewed the room, gazing at each of the past headmasters until his eyes finally rested upon Dumbledore's portrait. Dumbledore's crystal blue eyes twinkled in a familiar way, they way they used to every time Dumbledore stepped up to the podium in the Great Hall to make a speech; a job that was now McGonagall's. He adjusted the half-moon spectacles that rested on the tip of his nose so that he could gaze through them at Oliver.

"Ah, Mr. Oliver Wood, Minerva informed me that you were hired a few months ago. A very wise choice, indeed."

"Thank you, Sir," Oliver sputtered quietly.

Dumbledore smiled happily. "Anytime, my boy," he replied jovially.

By this time McGonagall had taken her eyes off her paperwork. "Yes, Oliver, I did, indeed, want to see you."

Oliver motioned toward himself. "Well, here I am."

McGonagall smiled slightly at one of her favorite former students. "Here you are." The smile vanished. Back to business. "We seem to be a bit short on professors to run detentions. I was curious if you would mind running a few a week."

Oliver's brows furrowed in confusion. "But don't the staff members who assign the detentions have to run them?" he questioned with a somber expression.

McGonagall nodded slowly. "Yes, but, sadly, we have a large group of third years who thought that it would be," McGonagall paused, searching for the correct word, "amusing if they suddenly all skipped their classes so that they all began failing. They were easily humored but we weren't."

"I can imagine, but what does this have to do with detention duty?" Oliver interjected.

McGonagall huffed in frustration. "I was getting to that. Now all of the professors have to get together to make one large mandatory study group."

Oliver scratched the back of his head. "But how can you be sure that they won't skip out on this?"

McGonagall sighed. "Well, they can certainly skip if they like, but they have been warned that if they don't attend, they will be expelled."

"Are they going to be the next Weasely twins or what?"

McGonagall frowned worriedly. "I certainly hope not, but it's possible, yes."

Oliver chuckled. "Don't worry; no one will ever be as bad as those two."

"I certainly hope not," she said while shaking her head dismissively. "Anyway, detention. Yes or no?"

Oliver chucked. "Do I have much of a choice?"

McGonagall joined in. "No, I suppose you don't"

"Well, in that case, yes."

McGonagall smiled. "Excellent. Detention is on Tuesdays and Thursdays from five to seven. Judging by how unmotivated these students are, they may last for awhile."

Oliver smiled tightly, making his dread obvious. "Lovely," he muttered in his thick Scottish accent.

"Thank you, Oliver. Your help is much appreciated."

A snore sounded behind McGonagall's desk. McGonagall placed her index finger on her closed lips.

"He doesn't like to be woken," she whispered.

Oliver looked at his former headmaster sleeping with a pleasant smile on his face.

"Okay," he whispered. "G'bye, Headmistress."

Oliver slowly crept out, carefully clicking the door shut behind him.

* * *

"All right, students, let's get started."

"Started with what?" an obnoxious third year called.

Oliver plopped down on Flitwick's surprisingly normal sized desk. He came in more than an hour late and he was surprised to see that the students were all assembled in silence. "Detention, of course." He scanned the students seated in front of him. There had to be at least twenty kids. Oliver was disappointed to see that he didn't only take over one teacher's detention duties, he took over _all_ the teachers' detention duties.

"Oh, yes, let the party begin," a bitter fifth year yelled sarcastically.

"Don't be so grouchy," Oliver replied. "Now, I just want you guys to sit here and… uh… I don't know. What do you guys to in detentions?"

A Hufflepuff piped up, "You mean you never got in detention when you went here?" The girl had to be in sixth year and her crush was _very_ apparent. She was sitting on the edge of her chair while hanging on every word Oliver muttered. Her large eyes glistened when he responded.

"No, I was so obsessed with Quiddich that I always made sure to behave so that I didn't ever have to miss a Quiddich practice for detention."

The Hufflepuff girl avidly nodded her head in understanding.

Oliver averted his eyes from the creepy crushing girl.

"Anyway, should you guys write lines or something?"

A snotty fourth year shouted, "Oh, hell no! How about we just leave? Oh! That sounds fun!"

Oliver furrowed his brows as he sat up straighter in his chair. "No, but how about you don't cuss?"

An innocent looking first year boy who seemed out of place in detention quietly asked with confusion, "Uh, cuss?"

Oliver nodded at the boy who was in his flying class. "Yeah, Reagan, cuss. As in curse, swear, vulgar terms, profanity…. Now, where was I? Ah, detention. What to do?"

"Oh, just shut up and make a decision already. I can't believe that o all people they could get to run this session of heck, they got you, the flying teacher who graduated merely a few years ago," the bitter fifth year announced. The disgruntled student ran out with a furious expression.

"Wait! What's his name, guys?"

"Harrison, sir," a student said.

Oliver jumped up and began running towards the door. "Thanks. Now, stay here! I'll be right back."

Oliver dashed out of the room and through the corridor.

"Harrison!" Oliver shouted when he saw the fifth year sauntering down the hall at a slow pace. Harrison just continued walking. "Harrison, come on! Stop! Halt!"

Harrison walked faster, almost reaching a run. Oliver easily matched his pace. "Harrison, stop right now, and come back to detention.'

Harrison stopped momentarily, turned around and said, "Nah, I don't think I will." He then sprinted away.

Oliver gripped and yanked on his hair his left hand and banged on the wall with his right fist. He then walked back to detention in defeat, sighing in frustration when he saw the scene that unfolded in front of him. A group of gaggling girls were gathered in a corner, two Slytherins were writing in their textbooks while cackling to themselves, and two students were quarreling in the middle of the room, desks pushed against the wall and the remainder of the students cheering them on.

Oliver's Hufflepuff groupie ran over to him shouting above all the noise, "I tried to stop them because I knew that you wouldn't approve, but they wouldn't stop!"

Oliver gazed over at the two fighting boys. _A Gryffindor and a Slytherin_, Oliver scoffed, _figures_. Oliver launched himself through the mess of people. After her pried the boys apart he hurriedly stepped between them, keeping his arms locked straight with his hands pushing on each of their chests.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" Oliver shouted.

The snotty fourth year complained, "So you can swear but we can't?"

"Not right now," Oliver snapped. "Now, what on earth are you two fighting about?"

The Slytherin boy rubbed his red fist that was used to give the Gryffindor a large black eye. "Nothing."

The Gryffindor grunted in affirmation.

Oliver gripped at the boys' shirts. "Oh? Really? Because I'm pretty sure that no one walks around and starts hacking at people for no odd reason."

The Gryffindor winced from his sores as he twisted in an attempt to be rid of Oliver's grip. "Well, we do."

Oliver smiled tightly in a frustrated manner. "I don't think so." He let go of their shirts as gripped at his hair in distress. "That'll be another two weeks of detention for the both of you. Now what are your names so that I can write this down?"

"Connor," the Gryffindor said.

The Slytherin mumbled, "Avery." As Oliver wrote, Avery continued, "Do you even have the authority to do this?"

Oliver looked up. "What makes you think that I don't?"

Avery rolled his eyes. "Well, _Professor_, you're a flying teacher. You only teach first years. You have no power over us."

"Is that so? Well, how does another week of detention on top of the two that you already need to serve sound?"

The Slytherin grumbled incoherently.

"Too late. Three weeks total sounds about right. What do you think, Connor? Do you want to serve an extra week, as well?"

"No, Sir."

"Kiss-ass," Avery mumbled.

Conner pushed Oliver aside and launched at Avery.

Oliver reacted immediately and pushed Conner up against Filtch's desk, pinning him down. "I've had enough! Now, both of you shut up and get the hell out of here _right now_! I will sadly see you here again Thursday."

"Don't remind me," Connor mumbled as he walked out of the classroom.

Avery clenched his fists and glared at Oliver. "Screw you." He then left.

Oliver gripped Flitwick's desk in anger. "The rest of you are dismissed," he announced with an agitated voice, watching as they shuffled slowly out of the classroom. "This may be too much for me to handle," he told himself.

* * *

"Oh, Oliver, hello."

Oliver halted in front of the person he almost ran over as he rounded the corner on his way to Flitwick's classroom. "Hermione, hi. I didn't see you there."

Hermione laughed. "That's fine. What's the big hurry?"

Oliver ran his hands through his hair in distress. "Hurry?" he asked in confusion.

"Yeah, you seem to be a bit in a rush. Plus, you don't seem to be able to stand still right now. What's going on?" Hermione questioned with furrowed eyebrows.

Oliver's eyes widened. "Oh, that. McGonagall asked me to run detentions for awhile and I have my second session today, sadly."

Hermione chuckled. "Judging by that disgruntled tone, I would say you're not too happy about it. Did the first session not go too well?"

Oliver looked down. "If fighting, ditching, and having no control over the class classifies as 'not too well' then, yeah, you could say that."

"Would you like some help?" Hermione offered with a half-smile.

"Yeah, that'd be great, but where would I get it from?" He rubbed his forehead.

Hermione gestured to herself. "You're looking at it."

Oliver laughed with a hopeful expression. "Really, you'd waste your Thursday night with me running detention with a bunch of brats and rebels in it?"

Hermione shrugged and started walking in the direction Oliver was running towards before. "Sure, why not? You seem like you really need the help."

"I really do. Thank you, Hermione," Oliver replied as led her to Flitwick's classroom. "This is much appreciated, and you can bail anytime."

Hermione patted Oliver's arm. "That won't happen; I don't give up that easily."

Oliver smiled. "I'm relying on that."

* * *

**So? What did you think? Please tell me either via review or PM. I'm dying to know!**

**I'll try to update sooner next time!**

**I love you all!**

**(Especially you, alindy!)**

**jtrem**


	9. School Girl Crushes

**All right, so, I honestly don't have any excuses that are good enough for you guys. I'm so freaking sorry for the extreme lateness of this chapter. My summer was super busy, but now that school's back and rolling I think I'll be back on track. Please forgive me. I love you all.**

* * *

Hermione gazed up at Oliver as she fell into step with him as they walked to Flitwick's classroom. "So," she began calmly, "what seems to be the trouble when you run detention? Do the students not like you, not listen to you, you can't control them, or something along those lines?"

Oliver shrugged and quickly ran his hand through his hair, thoroughly messing it up. "How about all of the above? They all seem to hate me except for this creepy sixth yeah Hufflepuff who seems to be obsessed with me." Oliver faked a dramatic shiver.

Hermione chuckled. "It's probably just a school girl crush. It's no big deal, we've all had them."

Oliver's eyebrows rose. "Oh? And would you happen to be a part of this 'we'?"

Hermione huffed and looked at Oliver uncomfortably. "I suppose I do…." Hermione said, not knowing where the conversation was heading and not knowing whether she wanted it to head there or not.

"Hmm, and who, may I ask, was your 'school girl crush'?" Oliver questioned, his voice spiked with curiosity.

Hermione looked away quickly. "You know what, that really doesn't matter. It was so long ago, I don't even know if I remember who it was," Hermione stated plainly while quickening her pace.

Oliver wasn't convinced. "I think you do. Plus, you said that it doesn't matter much so it shouldn't bother you to share. Come on, who was it?" He grabbed her arm, stopping her and turning her to face him.

Hermione wiggled out of Oliver's grip before stammering, "Hey, aren't we going to be late?" She then quickly rushed away without waiting for an answer.

Oliver frowned to himself before shouting, "I'll get you to tell me eventually," while dashing after her.

Oliver and Hermione walked in on many teens spread across the room speaking loudly to each other. Oliver huffed in frustration before announcing roughly, "Shut up and sit down," his Scottish accented voice laced with anger and impatience.

The students shuffled over to the desks and reluctantly sat down while mumbling miscellaneous and sometimes inappropriate things in response.

"This, students, is Hermione Granger. She has come to help me control you children," Oliver explained.

He heard a few rude things murmured like, "Merlin knows that he needs the help" and "Children? I'm 16! He's only a few years older than me!". But the one that stuck out most was: "Is she your girlfriend?" It was the annoying Hufflepuff from the last detention. Her face was red, her blonde hair mussed, and her voice coated with jealousy.

"Wha—Hermoine? No. We're just really good friends, that's all. Right, Hermione?" Oliver said, trying to stay as calm as possible.

"Uh—yeah, sure. We're friends. Nothing more." Hermione nodded in confirmation.

"You see? Now, this detention is going to be a bit different the last one. There will be no leaving, no fighting, no leaving your seat, and absolutely no talking. For those of you who weren't in the last session of detention, I'm sorry, but these are the rules for _everyone_. All right? Does everyone understand me?" When he saw the nods, Oliver announced, "Excellent. Detention officially commences now. And remember, I don't want to hear a peep out of any of you," he finished with an accusing finger scanning the students. Unlike last time, there was complete silence. Oliver nodded happily, glad that he was listened to for once, while Hermione shook her head.

"I can tell why they like you so much," Hermione muttered so that only Oliver could hear with a smirk on her face.

Oliver turned slightly towards Hermione and whispered in response, "I wasn't like this last time. I learned my lesson, though. No more 'Mister Nice Guy'."

Hermione snorted. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Stop it. You're almost as bad as _them_."

Hermione shook her head again, moving over to Flitwick's desk with Oliver in tow, and sat down in Flitwick's chair. "They're just teenagers. Some are even my age. They shouldn't be too hard to control."

Oliver leaned against the desk and shook his head in response. "They just don't seem to respect me. I think it's because I'm so much closer to their age than any of the other teachers."

Hermione drummed her fingers on the desk in thought. "That would make sense. They're all used to teachers who are practically old enough to be their grandparents. Maybe since you only graduated a few years ago, they don't see you as a figure of authority, more like a friend."

Oliver chortled bitterly. "Friend? More like enemy. Hermione, these kids hate me. I've tried to be their friend, it didn't work out very well," he said while gazing at the bored, angry, frustrated teens.

Hermione looked up at Oliver suddenly with a look of realization. "That's it. You're a _teacher_, Oliver, you shouldn't be trying to be their _friend_, that's not what you're here for. You're here as an instructor, someone who helps, a guide to their future. You're not here to be their mate, you're here to lead them," she finished with satisfaction.

Oliver grunted in anger, positive that what Hermione said didn't resolve any of his qualms. "Hermione, I teach first years how to fly a broom. I don't teach most of the kids in this class. Hell, I'm only a few years older than most of the students in this class. I don't know how to handle them like the rest of the teachers do. I don't even feel like I fit in with the teachers. They treat me like a student still and they don't trust me enough with responsibilities. Frankly, I was shocked when McGonagall gave me this job, as were most of the other teachers. They don't trust me enough. I don't even trust myself." Oliver hung his head in frustration. He was glad that he found someone who he could talk to and finally let his worries and insecurities out. Oliver was glad that he could confide in her.

Hermione slowly rose from her chair and took Oliver's hand, causing him to look up at her. "I had no idea that you felt that way. Most of the teachers who made you feel this way probably had no idea, either. You should tell them."

Oliver looked away again. "Yeah, and make me sound like a little school girl feeling like she doesn't fit in. I don't think so. You know, telling people how you feel doesn't solve everything, Hermione," Oliver said aggressively in a way that Hermione had never heard him speak, especially to her. "Do _you_ tell everyone how you feel all the time?"

Hermione closed her eyes, looking unsettled, while saying in a small voice, "Not always."

Oliver nodded in satisfaction. "Exactly. Sometimes the situation isn't right for a clear confession. Plus, sometimes when you do confess how you feel, you turn out looking like an idiot and you regret that you ever said anything," Oliver said, his voice still angry.

Hermione slowly looked up at Oliver without fully raising her head. "But you can never know if it will turn out well. Sometimes you just need to confide in someone and see what happens, like you just did with me."

Oliver's eyes softened as well as his voice. "You're right. I've always had issues with learning to trust someone easily. For me, it takes a while for me to be able to confide in someone like I just did with you. It's strange how quickly I've come to trust you. I feel like I can tell you anything."

Hermione smiled sweetly, squeezing the hand that she still held. "You can. I'm happy that you trust me that much because I feel the same way about you."

Oliver smirked as an idea arose. "Oh, really? If you can tell me _anything_, how about you share who your school girl crush was?"

Hermione frowned. "Why do you want to know so badly?"

Oliver's eyebrows kneaded together in confusion. "I honestly don't know. I suppose I'm just curious who little Hermione Granger had her eyes on when she peeped up at him while pretending to read her many books in the library." Oliver grinned.

Hermione made a slight noise of disbelief. "I did not _peep_, as you say, I was truly reading."

"All right, then who was the lad who caught your eye across the dining hall where whenever he caught you looking you would suddenly be captivated by whatever was on your plate in front of you?" Oliver asked, chuckling throughout the question.

Hermione folded her arms. "I most certainly did not stare at boys while dining."

Oliver sighed, still smiling. "Fine, who was the strapping you fellow where at Quiddich games you honestly didn't care about the outcome, you only cared about the one player who captured your attention?"

Hermione froze. He unknowingly was right. He caught her, but she did her best to make sure that he didn't notice. "I hardly ever went to Quiddich games. The only one's I went to were Harry's," Hermione said shakily.

Oliver raised his eyebrows and smirked. "You didn't deny it, though. So, was it someone on the Gryffindor team, then?"

Hermione's eyes averted from Oliver. "Uh, no?" she answered, making her insecurity obvious to Oliver.

"I think it was. Who was it, then? One of the twins? Harry, himself?" Oliver continued, pushing the matter further.

Hermione shook her head repeatedly. "No, none of those. Why do you want to know so badly, anyway?" Hermione asked, this time putting Oliver on the spot.

"I don't; I'm simply curious."

Hermione smirked. "You know, curiosity's what killed the cat. I think that you actually care about who I used to crush on in the old days."

Oliver cackled. "The 'old days'? What are you, fifty? And, I don't know why, but I really would like to know."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "Fine. If you'd really like to know, it was Marcus Flint. I could never take my eyes off his luscious unibrow or his uneven, gaping teeth, and his deep, harsh, cruel voice just made me swoon."

Oliver's expression began rough but soon became an expression of disproving when he realized that she was merely joking.

"Hermione…." he began.

"Fine, fine. I'll tell you." Hermione lowered her voice even more from her previous whisper. "It was you."

Oliver opened and closed his mouth several times before finally sputtering, "Me? What? When? How? Why?"

Hermione blushed and nodded slightly while fixing her gaze on just about anything but Oliver. "Yeah, I just… When I was younger I always—"

"Um, excuse me, but I thought this was supposed to be a silent detention, and with other teachers, the rule applies to them, too," a snobby seventh year Slitherin announced loudly.

Hermione and Oliver looked at the students for the first time since their conversation began.

Oliver nodded in affirmation and conjured up a chair to sit next Hermione. "Right you are. Carry on with your silence."

Hermione looked down at her hands, playing with her fingers and didn't even bother to look up when Oliver leaned over to her and muttered, "Don't think you're off the hook with this. We'll finish this conversation later." She was having difficulties hiding the blush and she couldn't help but feel like she was in trouble when Oliver said that to her in that way.

Throughout the remainder of the detention, Hermione hardly ever acknowledged Oliver, whereas Oliver examined Hermione and didn't even bother hiding it. He couldn't make sense of the feeling of happiness and relief that, of all the people in Hogwarts, when Hermione was younger, and still utterly brilliant, she had a crush on him. School girl crush or not, it still counted. He inwardly smiled to himself at the thought.

As soon as the bell rang, everyone in the room shot up and bolted towards the door, including Hermione. Oliver was left in Flitwick's classroom alone, confused, and sad, yet happy. He couldn't wait to interrogate her at their next lesson and finally get some answers.

* * *

**Please review!**

**Love you!**


	10. Unwanted Feelings and Strong Morals

**Sorry for the lateness, as usual. I actually really like this chapter, even though it's rather short. You really get to see Hermione's true feelings on the whole thing with Oliver and all. I'm happy that I've finally covered how she really feels. Soon, it'll be Oliver's feeelings, but that'll be in one of the next few chapters or so.**

**I plan to update sooner, considering I already have most of the next chapter written so exepct that soon!**

**Please read & review!**

* * *

A few long days passed, leaving Hermione nervous and anxious for her lesson. She found herself held up in the library Saturday night after hearing many persistent complaints for Harry and Ron. They droned on all day about how they never got to see her lately and how when they did get to spend time with her, her mind didn't seem to be there, which, according to Ron, is "bizarre 'cause her mind was usually everywhere at once."

It was true; she regretfully admitted to herself that she had been a bit out of it the past week or two. She often found herself wanting to blame it on the stress of seventh year, but she knew that there was another reason, a much more frightening reason. It was Oliver. She hardly ever got to see Oliver and when she did, she usually couldn't even talk to him. She spotted him every night in the Great Hall while they were dining, and she would watch him. She loved just admiring him and how he did things. He was so kind to his fellow staff members even though he was obviously exiled from them because of his age. Oliver was such a gentleman and it made Hermione find that she was reliving her school girl crush.

It annoyed her how cliché it was to fall for a teacher, even though he wasn't technically her teacher. Sure, in her second year Hermione couldn't deny that Lockhart was easy on the eyes, but she was repulsed whenever she would overhear a fellow student telling a friend how she was going to marry Lockhart and how many children they were going to have. He was a teacher, for Merlin's sake. He was there to educate young students, not marry and impregnate them. Sure, Hermione didn't see herself having Oliver's children, but she certainly saw herself holding his hand, laughing at his Scottish jokes, kissing him goodbye, but she knew that that could never happen. It was policy. No student/teacher affairs allowed, no matter how small the age difference.

That's why Hermione decided to push her feeling away and deny them to everyone, including herself. Well, except for Ginny, who she told everything to, of course. She was just so ashamed of her feelings, and she knew how disappointed McGonagall would be if she ever found out that her top student was harboring feelings for one of her staff members. There was no way in hell McGonagall would ever support it.

That is why Hermione spent a beautiful Saturday night tucked up in a corner in the library. She sat in the Quiddich section so that she was reminded of Oliver and how horribly wrong and impossible her feelings were.

Hermione sat curled up on a chair, reading up on Quiddich. Her eyes scanned over the words with ease, but her mind put fourth no effort to understand and process them. Hermione didn't know what was wrong with her. Even Ginny spent hours trying to convince Hermione that a crush on Oliver wasn't the end of the world, she still felt disgusted with herself. It wasn't even the age difference that bugged her, he was only a few year her senior, it was the fact that he was a teacher and she, a student. The more time she spent with him, the more she realized that it wasn't just and innocent little crush anymore; it was developing into something bigger, and she needed to stop it. She wouldn't have thought it so wrong if it was, per say, Ginny falling for Oliver, because it wasn't Ginny, it was _her_. For all those years she strived to be the perfect student, and suddenly it all seemed to dissolve when her crush came back. It was all in her head, anyways. There was no way he had feelings for her. He only viewed her as a friend. That was just the way it was, and she needed to accept it.

"Hermione?" an all-too-familiar voice announced.

Hermione slowly and sadly looked up, wondering why it had to be now that he decided to pop by.

"Oliver. Why are you here in the Quiddich section? You know more about Quiddich than these books do," Hermione sputtered with a bit of trouble. He caught her at a bad moment.

Oliver chuckled. "Well, according to someone at one of last week's matches, I called a "shit call". So, I'm here just for that poor, little third year in denial, just to humor him by looking it up."

Hermione smiled then mentally yelled at herself. _Ignore his natural charm. You're just his friend, and he's just your friend._ "Sounds fun."

Oliver nodded. "Indeed." He sat down at the table Hermione had been at for the past three hours after yanking a random book off the shelves. "So why are you here? Cramming before our lesson tomorrow?" he questioned with a smirk.

Hermione shrugged. "Something like that," she said in an odd voice.

Oliver looked up from his absent mindedly page turning with concern. "Are you alright?"

Hermione closed her book. "What? Me? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Perfect, really," she rambled.

Oliver closed his book as well and reached for Hermione's hand. "You sure?"

Hermione jumped up before Oliver could reach her hand. "Yep! I'm fantastic! No worries." She then crammed her book randomly back on a shelf in an un-Hermione-like fashion and dashed away after saying, "Goodnight. I will see you tomorrow."

Oliver sat there with his mouth ajar wondering what the hell he did wrong.

* * *

Hermione ran all the way to the Gryffindor common room and sped past Harry, Ron, and Ginny, who were lounging on the couch near the fire. The three looked at each other and Ginny said, "I got this one," then followed Hermione up to her dorm.

Hermione sat on her bed, panting. Ginny moved over and sat next to her best friend. With a reassuring arm around Hermione, Ginny asked, "Wood?"

Hermione's silent gasps for air became louder as she nodded. "It's not right, Ginny. Me. A teacher. It's immoral. It's so, very wrong."

Ginny shushed Hermione and stroked her hair. "It's not all that bad, Hermione. He's only four or five years older than you."

Hermione quieted down enough to say, "I know, but why did this have to happen to me? This goes against everything that I believe."

Ginny rubbed Hermione's arms and kissed her head. "I know, it's not fair."

Hermione tried her hardest not to cry. "It really isn't."

"You know what you need to do?" Ginny asked, pulling out of the embrace.

Hermione shook her head.

"You need to find out whether he returns the feelings or not. That way, you could either move on or act on your feelings."

Hermione looked down. "But I don't want to ruin my friendship with him, and I'd never be able to ask him. I don't have your courage."

"But you could, Hermione. Tomorrow at your lesson, ask him. Or maybe even hint that there might be something going on between you two."

Hermione looked at Ginny with uncertainty.

Ginny pouted. "Please, Hermione? Do it for me, I hate to see you in such pain. You're in a war between your feelings and your morals and your morals are winning. Let your feelings get a taste of victor for once."

Hermione sighed. "I can try…."

"Yes!" Ginny jumped up.

"But," Hermione continued, also standing up, "if I get any doubts, I'm not going through with it. Understood?"

Ginny grinned. "Sure, fine, whatever!"

Hermione shook her head and laughed. "Now leave, please. I would like to get some rest."

"Anything for you, Princess."

Hermione pulled out her pajamas. "Uh, Gin, don't call me that."

Ginny giggled and before she left said, "Well, you're gonna get your prince tomorrow, so get used to it."

Hermione shook her head and smiled as the door closed. She had no idea what she would do without Ginny. Harry and Ron could _never_ give guy advice as good as hers.

* * *

**Alright, so, I'm sorry if it seems a bit choppy or quick. I finished this up tonight and I wanted to post it so I skipped over the usual 100 extra times I read it to make sure it's okay.**

**Thoughts, questions, concerns? Leave a review!**

**Thank you for reading!**

**I love you all!**

**jtrem**


	11. Internal Battles

**Yes, my dear readers, it's true... jentrem99 had returned. I apologize for the wait. I fell out of writing for awhile. Being unmotivated and lost for ideas is not a good thing. I'm incredibly sorry, but I have the next few chapters planned out and plan on updating again in a few days and finally establishing an actual updating schedule! Exciting! Thanks for the continued loyalty after the long years it's taken to post 10, now 11, chapters.**

**Now read on!**

* * *

Hermione woke up to find herself in a rather strange mood. She felt as if she had no energy and she had no desire to leave her bed whatsoever. She stretched out her body, dreading the hours to come leading up to her lesson. She knew she had promised Ginny that she'd at least attempt to admit her feelings to Oliver or find out if he had feelings for her, but she knew deep down that she could never even mention any sort of feelings to Oliver. She was too shy, ashamed, and nervous around him. But as Hermione slowly stood up and walked away from her bed, she vowed to keep her promise and try her hardest to talk to Oliver about it.

Hermione realized that breakfast was nearly over and dressed in a haste to make it down for a meal. When she rushed through the common room, she noticed Harry, Ron, and Ginny lounging around. They called her over to them when they spotted her but she just hastened past, not wanting to deal with her friends at that moment.

Harry and Ron were shocked and curious at Hermione's odd determinedness to get out of the common room.

Rom skeptically watched the portrait swing shut after his best friend and the girl he was currently pursuing and turned to his sister. "All right, Ginny, seriously, what's going on with Hermione? These past few weeks she's been so moody and distant."

Before Ginny could speak, Harry cut in. "She hasn't been totally moody…. I've noticed that one second she will be perfectly normal and happy and then something sets her off and she either looks like a nervous wreck or she gets distracted and can't seem to think straight."

"Which is unlike our Hermione," Ron added.

Ginny shook her head and addressed her brothers question, not looking into his concerned, overprotective blue eyes, fearing that she'll spill her best friends secret out of pity for her brother.. "Firstly, Ron, you have been warned and yelled at many a time by Hermione to keep your nose out of her business. She's your best friend and obviously, in your opinion, your most ideal girlfriend—"

"Wha—"

"No, Ron, I'm talking," Ginny interrupted, now looking her brother straight in the eye. "Now, I don't mean to go all preachy on you, but our dearest Hermione has been moody and emotional the past two or three weeks. As a friend, you're allowed to be concerned about her but not obsessively. Being as persistent as you're being could quite possibly ruin or harm your friendship with Hermione or any chance you have with her romantically. You're just supposed to show your support at times like these and you're not supposed ask so many questions. Now, I better stop talking before I turn into some sort of counselor, but keep these things in mind. I don't want to see my best friend and my brother fighting all the time." Ginny slouched back against the couch, making it seem as if her speech took a lot out of her.

Harry and Ginny watched Ron timidly to see if he would explode or not.

He didn't. He simply said, "Look, Gin, I appreciate the whole spiel and all, but I know how to handle Hermione. She's my best friend for Merlin's sake. I just wanted to know what's up with her, not what you thought on the matter." He then stood up calmly and left to go play some Quiddich to clear his mind.

Harry turned to Ginny with an apologetic look on his face.

"I know, I know," Ginny said. "He's difficult to deal with, that one."

Harry nodded, smiled, and went after Ron, not wanting to upset Ginny further.

Ginny laid across the newly empty couch, pondering all of the possible ways Hermione's situation could end.

Hermione could end up with Oliver, happily married with many adorable little Scottish babies.

She could also get Oliver into a lot of trouble with McGonagall and the policy and never get to see him again.

In that scenario, Hermione could always resort back to Ron, but her brother deserved to be more than a back up guy someone just settled for. Ron deserved someone who truly loved him the same way he loved her. Just like what Hermione deserved.

Ginny sprung up from the couch and left the common room to go find her boyfriend, still brainstorming.

After Hermione's gratefully quiet and quaint breakfast, Hermione returned to her dorm and kept to herself until lunch, switching off between reading and thinking of ways to talk to Oliver at her lesson.

She wanted to sound spontaneous with the conversation, but she also wanted to be planned out enough so that she knew exactly what she wanted to cover when she told Oliver.

At lunch, an hour before her lesson, Hermione made Ginny eat with her alone, causing two disgruntled Gryffindor boys and one very pissed off Slytherin to sit separately from them. Hermione really needed her friend's help.

"Well, Draco's thoroughly pissed…. So, what's up? You planning on telling Oliver today?" Ginny said.

Hermione sighed and glanced over at the handsome staff member. "Here's the thing, Gin…." Hermione started.

Ginny laughed. "Uh-oh."

Hermione laughed in return. "Shut up." She then became suddenly serious. "Could I possibly wait a little longer to talk to him about it?" Hermione questioned nervously while biting her lip, a bad habit that knew was unattractive but she couldn't help but do it anyway.

"What?" Ginny exclaimed, appalled.

Hermione looked around and a few startled Gryffindors. "Way to make people look, Gin."

Ginny rolled her eyes and entered into a heated explanation. "No, Hermione. You have feelings for him, whether immoral for you or not, you just do. You need to know if he returns them in order to know if you're wasting your time on him or not."

Hermione looked uneasily at her very much assured friend. "Well, how do I even know that I have feelings for him? Sure, I used to have a crush on him when I was young and bushy-haired, but that was then. I mean, we've had a few lessons and they've been great, but I could be amplifying my feelings far more than what they really are…."

Ginny smiled. "Oh my dear, naïve Hermione, you may not be sure of your feelings, but I am." Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm serious, Hermione. Does your stomach do flips when you see him?"

Hermione nodded shyly.

"Do your hands get sweaty and start shaking when you're with him and when he touches you?"

Hermione looked away. "I suppose."

"When you and Wood depart from your lessons, do you feel like you're on cloud nine and that nothing can put you in a bad mood?"

"Yeah, until Ron asks where I've been and why I'm in such a good mood. That obsessive, overprotective…." Hermione grumbled, trailing off.

Ginny clapped once with a happy nod. "Hermione, if that's not love then I don't know what is."

Hermione straightened up and put down the fork she was using to move around her food on her plate. "How could you possibly come to the conclusion that I'm in love if all I do is get nervous around him? It's not like he's _all_ I think about…." _Most of the time…._

Ginny smiled adoringly at her best friend. "'Cause those feelings, Hermione, are exactly the feelings I experience when I'm around Draco. And, let me tell you, I love Draco with all of my heart."

"Have you told him yet?"

Ginny looked uneasy for a beat but quickly shifted back to her usual cheery self. "No, and it's no big deal. We'll say it when we're ready."

Hermione looked at Ginny with supportive eyes. "Why can't you just say it first? Why does it have to be him to admit it first?"

Ginny sighed. "Because I've always dreamed of my boyfriend saying it first. It's more special that way because it's harder for guys to talk about their feelings than girls. I've never shared an 'I love you' with a boyfriend, and I want it to be special. I can't just blurt it out like I always want to. I want him to say it."

Hermione smiled and nodded. "I understand."

Ginny looked shocked. "Wait! How did we get to my love life! We were talking about you before!"

Hermione put her hands up. "It was a totally unintentional change of topic on my part. Trust me."

"I don't believe—"

"Oh, Merlin! I have to go! I have ten minutes to get to the Room of Requirement! Can I just tell him next week? Please? I need another lesson to work out my feelings."

"Fine…" Ginny exclaimed with a labored sigh.

"Thanks! You're the best! Bye, Gin!"

Ginny pouted and shouted at Hermione as she watched her run off. "You're not off the hook, you know!"

* * *

**All right, if there was a time to ever review on one of my stories, now would be the time. I just started writing again so I'd love to know if you're still interested in the story and my writing.**

**Thanks all!**

**jentrem99**


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